Almost a week into May and I’m counting the days until school is out, but not for the same reasons that my sons likely are.
I’m already daydreaming about my summertime routine. It doesn’t involve rolling out of bed to convert my kitchen into breakfast diner that covers three separate “sittings”. It doesn’t involve scurrying around at the last minute looking for mislaid library books or laundered gym uniforms. And, it definitely doesn’t involve taking a late lunch everyday just so I can run out and retrieve them when they don’t take/make the bus.
No, my summertime routine will be much more self-centered, I’m afraid. An early morning walk, reading the paper over a quiet breakfast before logging onto my home office computer, and working through lunch so I can head off to the pool for at least a couple of hours with at least some of the boys. We’ll come back to a scrumptious grilled feast, courtesy of my husband (note to self – inform husband of plan) and sit on the back deck sipping a fine vintage of something from a corked bottle while the boys play badminton or ghost-in-the-graveyard, or simply catch fire flies.
I. Can’t. Wait.
I’m sure the time will fly. Between now and then, we just have Mother’s Day, three family birthday celebrations, two graduations, one parade/picnic, and (you guessed it) a partridge in a pear tree…